


Making Do

by robotfvckers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Human, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Human Zenyatta, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Sex Toys, Teasing, ambiguous holes, no vagina mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: Genji and Zenyatta are both omegas, but they won't let societal convention stop them.





	Making Do

After Hanzo nearly slays him, Genji’s never comfortable. Not in his body, not when he wanders, not even amongst the shambali, too busy reconciling his form, persistently unnerved by his new, scarred body.

When he finally finds peace, his master leaves the shambali once more to travel with him. Their bodies remain dormant, no location safe or consistent enough to trigger the heats that would render them helpless. They forgo suppressants because of it, think little of their biology, how they could be lost and needy beneath a deluge that steals logic and safety with the immediacy of a lightning strike.

Overwatch calls them, and they answer. Hanzo would join, and Genji wants to help his brother just as Zenyatta had helped him. They converge at Watchpoint: Gibraltar after that fateful night in Hanamura and wait for others to gather. It is the first time the two have soft beds, regular meals and each other, constants that center them like stones against the waves, smoothed and worn but withstanding the barrage of an uncertain world.

The heats hit in tandem, their connection shaping their pheromones, each coalescing within minutes of each other. They have not discussed what they would do when the time came, but when their eyes lock, need cloying and sweet in the air, they head to the medical bay.

The siblings are both working. Angela smiles at them, her reaction carefully checked. Her younger brother is less successful; even suppressed, his eyes flicker between the two when he shakily hands them their request, a flush coloring dark cheeks.

Genji brushes his fingers across Angelo’s when he takes the package, and the young doctor stammers as they depart, Angela chiding him in hushed, but kind, tones.

“You should not tease him so.” Zenyatta says, though he returns Genji’s wolfish grin. Genji’s flush reaches his throat, spreading like dye through water, unstoppable but beautiful.

“Let me have my fun, master.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

* * *

They tumble into their shared quarters, tugging off clothes between sloppy kisses and heavy caresses. Their package is forgotten on the bed as Zenyatta shoves Genji down, pinning his wrists next to his ears, peppering kisses along his cheekbones. Their scent fills the room, immediate and heady, not meant to tantalize ones so similar, but Genji’s smile, the gentle nip of teeth, his laugh, fuels his desire, and Zenyatta’s features, his soft, caring way spurs Genji in turn.

Genji wiggles in Zenyatta’s grip, and Zenyatta bites the column of his throat, kissing his mark when his partner stills, a weak moan rattling from his chest.

“Behave, Genji.”

Zenyatta gasps as Genji shifts his knee, slipping his thigh between Zenyatta’s, grinding against the soft wetness he finds as Zenyatta huffs beneath his ear. His master acquiesces his hold, fumbling his hand between their bodies to grasp his own cock, rosy and nearly erect.

“Such disobedience.”

Genji stares with heated eyes as Zenyatta strokes himself languidly, biting his lower lip.

“Will you punish me?”

“If only you did not seem so keen on the idea.”

They have touched outside of heats, exploring and sweet, learning each other, mended Genji’s hurts as Zenyatta mapped every inch of his body with hands and lips and tongue, warm praise never far in his soft, deep cadence. Now, minds hazy and softened with heat, it is hard to fight the insistency that pulses between his legs, the need to tease and explore to his fill secondary. Zenyatta wants his student whimpering beneath him, paid back in full for his capriciousness.

“Stay your hands.”

And for all his teasing, rule-skirting ways, Genji complies, mouth parted as Zenyatta drags his hand down the dampening planes of Genji’s body, tracing scars, wounds old and new, pinching a tawny, peaked nipple that earns him a soft hiss. He grinds into his own hand while Genji arches and twists, memorizes how his gasping mouth clenches when he gently skirts the thick base of Genji’s cock. It throbs and beads against his stomach, but Zenyatta ignores it, traces his hand lower, where Genji’s wet and aching. He doesn’t touch, not at first, bites his own lip while Genji swears as he traces him, body clenching, eager for anything Zenyatta would give him.

“It is still so early, yet look how you yearn.” Zenyatta hums, teasing a finger at its apex before dragging upwards, finally grasping the base of his cock.

Another hard swear spills from his student as Genji bucks into the touch. Zenyatta tuts, keeps his hand at its base, loving the desperate feeling of Genji pulsing against his palm, molten and dizzying.

“I wonder…” Zenyatta murmurs, angling his hips, the grip on his own cock vice-like and almost painful to stay his need as he kisses it to Genji’s hole. “If I could claim you in one push.”

A harsh flurry of Japanese rings in Zenyatta’s ears, and Genji angles up, tries to catch Zenyatta inside him, but the position isn’t quite right, and he growls, slick staining the sheets beneath them.

“Zen, please.” Genji begs. “I’m being good. Don’t tease me.”

Zenyatta laughs through his nose, taps his cock against him, Genji’s slick clinging to him in thick ropes when he recedes, his own moan touching the air as each press shocks up his spine, his thighs grown slick with teasing Genji.

“Yes, you have.” He draws forward, watches with nearly closed eyes as Genji takes his cock in a smooth, noisy slide. Zenyatta swears under his breath, and a hot, sudden yes bubbles forth from Genji as he buries himself completely.

He cannot stay still past the few seconds he gives Genji to adjust, fucking in sharp, punctuated thrusts as the heat haze begins to cloud his mind. Genji whispers in low, goading swears, keeping his hands against the bed, though his fists squeeze tight, wanting more than anything to hold Zenyatta, flip them and ride him to their ends.

Zenyatta grasps Genji’s cock just beneath the glans, slides his thumb over and over the leaking slit, not quite stroking, but Genji arches all the same, hips flexing to meet each thrust, the need burning him through.

“Ah…Zen, I can smell you…” Genji murmurs, and Zenyatta shakes his head, kissing his student breathless so his words don’t end him too soon. Thrusts lengthen, deepen, and Genji growls when Zenyatta bottoms out, each time more desperate than the last, thighs clenching him in a vice, the molten heat of him spasming around his cock, close, close.

It takes only a few quickened thrusts to force Genji over the brink, hands twisting into the bedding as he comes, the first orgasm of many, speared wide on Zenyatta’s cock. It’s only a few heartbeats later that Zenyatta buries his mouth against Genji’s throat and spills too, flooding him with seed and heat, the hand on Genji’s cock scrambling to press where Genji’s breached, stuffing his fingers alongside his cock, Genji’s body aching to take more, needing it, but it’s the best knot he can manage when he’s maddened and lust drunk from his own end. He hums and whimpers into Genji’s neck, mouthing and lapping at his mark, letting the familiarity of it ease him from madness.

It does little; as soon as Genji catches his breath, Zenyatta’s vision doubles, a wave of vertigo stunning him before he realizes he’s on his back, a second longer before he moans, high and sharp, squeezing his thighs around Genji’s head. His student laughs against his most sensitive place and only grips tighter.

“Genji—!”

A tongue answers Zenyatta’s plea, hot and shameless, dragging in a thick, insistent line against him, shoving inside moments later, wiggling and working deeper than he thought such a thing could. Genji does nothing about the thighs squeezing his head as he mouths deeper, only wraps his hands around them, urging Zenyatta closer, all the easier to fuck him with his tongue.

Tears prick Zenyatta’s eyes, the stimulation enough to blacken his vision, and they’ve only just started, only the first hour of their heat and he aches and trembles on the edge of too much. The plea hovers on his lips, but then pressure at his calves, Genji receding, and he lets him, shuddering as Genji scrambles for the box while staring up the line of Zenyatta’s body, in awe, always so when he looks at his mate.

“I bet Angelo will bring himself off tonight, thinking of us using this.” Genji murmurs against his hole, and Zenyatta laughs and sighs, shaky and wanting.

“Speaking of another during our first heat?” Zenyatta responds, playfully mournful, drawing his knees to his chest as his tongue swells at the sight of the toy. Thick, he thinks, and need grips his insides, squeezing in a vice.

“You like it. He’s your type.” Genji draws the toy to his mouth, swirls his tongue around the large crown, and Zenyatta quivers, remembers so vividly that hot mouth against him, strains to spread himself, fingers framing his swollen hole.

Genji’s stare shakes him to his core, eyes flaring green and bright for an instant, dragon’s scales rippling along his arms before the energy settles, pulsing just beneath the surface of his skin. His jokes and quips disappear as he drags the toy along Zenyatta’s slit, the other groaning and squirming, stifling his noises as his lover stares with stalwart intensity.

How quickly the words and playfulness fade as Genji works the toy in quick, gentle motions, arm planted over Zenyatta’s stomach to keep him from squirming. The messy sound of the toy pistoning inside his master, his moans breaking high and sweet, the way his dark body parts and clings around it, riles Genji to no end, his own hole aching, needing to be claimed again. Genji leans back, tosses his legs over Zenyatta’s thighs, shuffling to align himself, groaning when the other end of the toy sinks home, thicker, longer than Zenyatta, and the stretch makes his lashes flutter and toes curl.

For a moment he’s awed by how easily Zenyatta took the toy, moaning and open for more, and it drives his hips forward, legs locking against Zenyatta’s for leverage, forcing it inside him as it sinks inside Zenyatta a few inches deeper. Their bodies meet, toy trapped between them in hot, tight thrusts, Zenyatta answering, eager, wild for it, scrambling for any part of Genji his hands can reach, settling to press crescent moons into his thighs while he ruts. Genji bites his lower lip, muscles burning, staring at where Zenyatta’s breached, and again the dragon breaks skin, whispering along Zenyatta’s body, licking and tasting his master with ghostly caresses, working more low, weak notes from his mate, voice hoarse from crying out.

The position satisfies for a fleeting moment, but he grows impatient; Genji pitches forward, settling his legs beneath him, the toy slipping out with an obscene pop, and for a moment Genji sees it, Zenyatta’s pulsing insides, hot and squeezing around nothing. His master’s hands are between their legs instantly, grasping Genji’s cock, fingers dipping inside him, but Genji grasps his hands.

“Hold your thighs.” Genji hisses, authoritative in a way that Genji rarely is, was only so in the early days of their acquaintance, when the mindset of a lordling spurned still dictated Genji’s actions.

Zenyatta moans, twisting, mindless, dark skin paling with the hard press of fingers into his quaking thighs, holding himself open, the gentle glow of Iris light ringing his dilated pupils.

With a soft huff, Genji feeds one end of toy into himself, the feeling of being too full and bred, though impossible, bright like a supernova in his mind. It seems silly, with his cock hard and throbbing against his stomach, to align the toy to Zenyatta’s needy body instead, and he would chuckle if the heat didn’t steal the thought. He sinks in with a groan, filling and being filled at once.

He fucks like a beast, the teasing over, and Zenyatta forgets himself, legs locking around Genji’s back, urging him faster, harder, the smacking of skin on skin overwhelming like the scent of sex and omega and the nearly bred and they’re close again, can taste it on the air, feel it in the deepest respites of their minds. Genji withdraws scant inches with each thrust, body plastered to his master’s, hips straining, chasing pleasure, a wolf inches from fleeing prey, mind singing with _yesrightZenyattaminemine **mine**_

Zenyatta returns his passion and more, hands curled around Genji’s shoulder blades, mouth opened in wordless huffs and whimpers and something that could almost be Genji’s name if he had the awareness, and even without thought his body knows, wants so badly to be bred by his only—

It’s a wonder Genji thinks of it, seconds before they barrel into their second, overwhelming release, but he slams his hand onto the toy’s control panel, and they both shout as their rims stretch around the artificial knots, smacking their bodies together, forcing them inside each other as they tremble and crash and lose themselves.

Emerald and gold flickers at the edges of their vision, after images of powers manifested that slowly fade beneath the relieved heat, at bay for now. Labored breathing is the only sound for a minute or two, awareness finally filling their collective consciousness. Genji is the first to move, mouthing at his mate’s mark on his throat, teasing a small, soft hum from his master.

“This toy is quite something.” Zenyatta says, lazily slipping a hand between them, feeling where they’re stuffed and sated. Genji laughs once, groans when those graceful fingers test Genji’s knot, teasing the swollen rim, finding no purchase.

“Can’t expect everyone to follow antiquated social dynamics.” Genji says, trailing kisses upwards, along his earlobe to those high, freckled cheekbones, finally tasting his mate’s lips, dry but warm. He feels Zenyatta smile against him.

“I suppose we both know a bit about that.” Zenyatta kisses Genji, soft, chaste like it’s their first. The next kiss is deeper, Zenyatta cupping the back of Genji’s neck, slipping his tongue through the small seam of Genji’s mouth that widens as he moans.

“Already?” Genji mumbles against his lips, though he sounds anything but off put.

Zenyatta answers with a quick roll of his hips, shifting their knots, swallowing each other’s moans as the familiar haze slowly takes them once more.

* * *

They emerge only to grab the meals that Angelo leaves outside their door, but the doctor is always gone before they retrieve it, the smallest whiff of the goings-on inside enough to prickle the flesh on the back of his neck.  

It would be a very long process to be immune to such intense heats, he thinks, rubbing his arms as he heads back to the medical bay, willing the lingering sensation away.

**Author's Note:**

> Have a fic idea? Hit me up on [on tumblr](http://robotfvckers.tumblr.com).


End file.
